Red Maze
by davros fan
Summary: Evil hides in the hearts of the innocent
1. Chapter 1

**RED MAZE**

**AUTHORS NOTE BY WARNING: This story is a dark tale and some scenes (if not all) will be disturbing. If this is not something you would want to read, then I suggest you hit the back button. This story is also slash – meaning male on male. If you have a problem with this, push the back button. Constructive criticism, I love and I welcome it. What I don't welcome is ignorance. With that being said, when you feel the douchy-ness about to bubble over, push the back button**

**Prologue**

I remember looking outside my window as a boy seeing people going about their day. Cars would pass my house. I would see people walking about. Some kids playing street hockey or some fat kid stealing a sheepish boy's pop tarts. This was what the world had to offer me. It was normal and for the longest time I wanted to be normal.

I wanted a normal mother and father that lived in a normal household eating normal food doing normal things that normal families did. There was no such thing on my side of the window. I remember thinking what it would feel like to be a part of their world. What would it feel like to live within the normal?

What would it be like to feel the brush of the wind on my face instead of the stale air conditioner zephyr? What would it be like to just walk outside and say hello to your neighbor? What would it be like to have friends? I would dream about asking my mother if I could go to my friend's house and play video games or some shit like that. I had no friends when I younger. I was a loner and I have been a loner since, well, until I met my angel.

My friend was my wild imagination. I used to create different situations in my head to entertain myself. What else could I do? I was a child. There wasn't much I could do on my side of the glass. The picture of the outside always teased me to press my face against the glass. It always taunted me with what I could not have. I couldn't have a normal family. I couldn't have friends. I couldn't be anything but what I was; nothing. However, knowing this piece of information didn't stop me from wanting.

The fantasy seemed so far-fetched. I mean it was right there, right outside my window. All I had to do was stretch my hand out and grab it. Why was it hard for me as a kid to see that? Why did my world have to be so different from theirs? What made them so special? These questions ran through my head all my childhood until I grew up.

Now when I look out my French windows, I see variety. I see possibilities. Those two things would never escape through my fingers. As I got older, I found out there was no such thing as normal. Everyone in this god-forsaken world was capable of the same thing. Love. Hope. Sorrow. Pain. Anger. Hunger. We as humans were all capable of such tragedies.

I moved away from the window to look down at my empty bed with the red and black duvet slung over the bed touching the floor. I was always a wild sleeper. I touched my angel's side of the bed. It was cold. He had a knack for getting up before I did. I hated it. I hated him for leaving our bed. It made me think of a time that he slipped away from me. That was how it started. I woke up missing the warmth of my lover beside me. Then he was gone.

I shook the morose sensation creeping inside me and made the bed. I looked over my shoulder to see it was five in the morning. It was Christmas Eve and snow blanketed the outside world while my side of the glass was warm and had the scent of vanilla. I took a deep breath and took in the sweet aroma. He was close.

I turned to my closet and pulled out a pair of red sport shorts and my sneakers I usually wore when I was about to work out. The heat in my belly began to make its presence again. I was hungry. I keeled over holding onto the bedpost. I watched my knuckles turn white from holding the brass post tightly. Slowly I breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. I kept the motion going until I felt in control. I was still hungry. I was always hungry, but I wasn't crazed, not like I used to be.

I tossed my shorts on the bed and placed my sneakers by the foot of the bed. Once everything was set, I went ahead to the bathroom to do my morning ritual. My shower wasn't long but it was long enough that the heat from the water radiated off my skin. Droplets dripped down my broad back and my defined chest cutting through grooves and curves.

I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection. Baby blues stared back at me. They were haunted and somewhat tired. I rubbed the darkened blond scruff on my face that complimented the golden tan complexion. "I should shave." I muttered to myself.

I checked my side profile and nodded with appreciation. Over the years, I worked hard to get my body in shape. For the longest time I wasn't satisfied, but seeing my body filled and cut the way it was now brought me great satisfaction. Who said hard work didn't pay off?

I entered the room and slipped on my shorts and my sneakers. I snatched my IPod off the nightstand and headed towards my weight room. While searching through my playlist I took out two bottles of water and snagged a granola bar, just as I did every morning before my workout.

Sweet vanilla filled the living room. He must be sitting in his favorite chair reading one of his books. I felt the corner of my lips curve up into a smirk. I could see him now lounging on the chase with his creamy white legs crossed at his ankles wearing those shorts I liked. He would have his glasses on sitting at the tip of his nose. Light hazel eyes capturing every dash and twist of a letter stamped on the ivory page.

Every fiber in my being was telling me to seek my lover out, but I didn't let myself fall for the urge. If he wanted me, he knew where I would be. Our relationship was a bit rocky at the moment. I loved him and I was happy being with him. It was my trust in him that was stagnant.

Before, I used to fall into step wherever he went. I loved passionately and blindly, which was stupid. I still had the passion and I still followed him, I was just cautious. They say only people that could hurt you the most were the ones they loved the most. I loved and lost to find myself loving him again. It was tiring but I wouldn't leave him. I couldn't be in a world without my angel.

I plated the right amount of weights on each side of the pole. Once I finished, I pushed play on my IPod hearing The Silent Comedy serenade my ears with Bartholomew and his stomping drums. I lay back in the seat and got a good grip on the pole to the barbells. With a great heave, I lifted the barbells over my head and started my exercise when I heard the first shrill of the guitar.

The hunger coiled in my stomach letting me know it was still there. I ignored the sensation and kept pushing up the weights. I didn't know how long I was on the barbells but my arms were singing curses for me stop. When last heave I rested the weights back on the stand. I snatched the water from the floor and drowned the 8 oz bottle. The cool liquid doused the sweltering on my tongue and flaming throat.

I stood from my sitting position to lie down on the blue mat on the floor. I needed to get different color mats. I hated the ones angel brought me. They seemed so girlish. Putting aside my irritation, I closed my eyes letting the heat from my body seize my muscles. I folded my arms behind my head ready to start with my reps of sits up. With another heave, I started counting.

Time had passed. The only way I knew that it did was from the brightness of the sun peeking through the black blinds. Usually I would stop excising when the sun hit the back wall, but I decided against it. I needed to work off my hunger. I couldn't let it win like I used to. The quickening of my heart banged against my chest, the uncomfortable heat seeping through my pores burning my golden flesh, the aching gums – they were all symptoms of my hunger. I was voracious.

I let the drums from my earphone filtered through my ears counting the beats. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . sev –

I felt my buds being ripped from my ears. I looked up and seen that it was my love straddling my hips. When did he come down here? "May I help you?" I asked somewhat irritated.

For a moment he looked affronted but let my tone roll off his back. "I have been calling your name for over fifteen minutes." He stared pointed at me clearly irritated that he was being ignored.

Feeling my own irritation wash away, I sat up and kissed his nose. "You look so cute when you pout."

His face was stoic but the redness on his cheeks was evident. I let my eyes linger over my angel. I touched his cheek. I could never get over how soft he felt. I nuzzled my nose at the crook of neck letting his calming vanilla scent fill my nose. He smelled exactly like vanilla bean ice cream. His mouth-watering scent always got to me. If I could, I would eat him alive. Bringing me out of my haze, I felt his long fingers scraping my scalp. I did the same running my hand through his short curled locks. I kissed the side of his ear then neck. I was prized with a deep moan from lover that reverberated from his chest to mine. I felt at peace.

With one last lingering kiss on his neck, I moved away to stare at him. "What did you want?"

"Do you have everything for the Christmas dinner?"

I sighed as I lay back down on the mat feeling everything on my body rage in anger. I felt stiff but it felt good, especially with my angel's weight on me. "Yes, I got everything you asked for on the list."

"You didn't forget the eggnog did you? Sometimes you forget things."

I smacked his thigh. "I told you it was an accident. Why do you always have to bring up old stuff?"

"Are you helping me cook?" He asked ignoring my question. I hated when he did that.

"No. I have to leave in the morning with Joe and Erica. They have to pick a Christmas tree for their homes."

He scrunched his face in confusion. "I thought they had one already?"

I shook my head. "Nope. They waited too long. All the good trees are probably taken by now, but I told them I'd go anyway ." I shook my hips making him move with me. "Are you going to get off me so I can get back to my exercise?"

My angel stared down at me with his black squared glasses sitting on his nose. He had no idea how sexy he looked like that. "Turn around."

My brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Turn around." He got off my hips so I could change positions.

I turned on my stomach and laid my cheek on my arm. I waited for something to happen for the longest time but nothing was happening. At first I thought he left me, but then I felt his cold fingers on my shoulders. I flinched slightly making him still his movements. He waited for me to relax before he began kneading my shoulders. I closed my eyes letting the awareness of his hands on my body shake me to my core.

Along with his kneading hands, I felt his thin lips pepper across my back. He paid special attention to the wolf tattoo on my back. The tattoo started from my lower neck to lower back. The wolf had eyes of amber and had black and gray coat with a white belly. He displayed his Canines showing the reddish pink of his gums. The tattoo hurt like a bitch, but it was worth it.

My angel took his time kissing every inch of my tattoo forgetting about my massage. Since the massage was over . . .

Before he knew what I was doing, I flipped myself over on my back letting him fall against my chest. Our lips were inches apart. His minty breath tickled my lips. I licked them. I wanted him and he knew it. It had been awhile since we'd made love. I didn't trust my need for him. I didn't want to fall hard like I did before. I needed to give myself space from him because I easily could forget. I easily could forget how he had me wrapped around his finger.

Usually I could control my urges, but now . . . I couldn't wait. I laid him down on his back this time me on top of him. My hands traced the contour of his back then they rested on his abs. My other hand kneading the white flesh of his thigh and hooked it around my hip earning me a gasp from his perfect lips.

I let my hand lead up to his hair again. I carded my thick fingers in his dark tresses then pulled it slightly making his head bend back showing his neck. The hunger flared in me. I wanted to taste his flesh. My mouth began to salivate and my gums began to ache. I burrowed my nose in his neck trying to calm myself.

"Breathe, baby." He whispered me.

My breath was coming out harsh and quick. My grip on his thigh had gotten tighter. If he was in pain, he didn't make any indication that he was. The heat in my stomach began to broil. A hand began to stroke my head and neck. The menstruating stokes calmed me somewhat but it wasn't stopping the quivering hunger. Moans of pain escaped my hungry lips. I was so hungry.

"Ssh," I heard my angel's soft voice entered my ears. "Breath for me, baby. Breathe."

I buried my face in his chest and did what he said. I breathed into my nose then out through my mouth. With his soft mantra and the stroking of his hands I could feel myself getting calmer. The hammering of heart began to slow down. The pain in my gums ceased to exist and the broiling in my stomach settled. I could still feel my hunger but I was in control.

I lifted my head from my lover's chest he was staring at me with his brown eyes. I leaned up to kiss his chin then nose then finally his lips. "Thank you." My voice was hoarse but I knew he could understand me.

My angel leaned forward to give me another lingering a kiss. When I was about to deepen the kiss, a rustling from down the hall stopped our actions. I looked down at him while he was still looking down the hall. It was then I seen the detachment in his eyes. They were the same back then . . . back when –

"You should check on our guest." He turned to me.

I stared at him looking for any change. There was a slight difference. His eyes were somewhat unfocused but he was still present with me. His small jaw was locked but his teeth were not clenching. Even when he was like this, he was perfect to me. His soft milky skin, smooth dark brown hair, elfish ears, small pointed nose, lean but muscular body, I loved it all.

I kissed his lips softly letting them melt with his thin pink ones. I pulled away from his stared down at him. I saw the reflection of my blue eyes in his brown pools. "I love you."

Slowly the stoic demeanor melted from his face. He was warmer and softer, no longer rigid and tense. "I love you, too"

I gave him one last kiss before I stood from our compromising position. I grabbed my water from beside him and walked down the narrow hallway leading to the guest room. I opened the door to peak my head inside.

"Grace? Are you up?" I heard her mumble incoherently seeing her bright blue eyes open. "You're awake." I opened the door fully as she stretched in the bed. "Did you have a good sleep?" She didn't reply. I guess she was still mad at me. I didn't blame her, I'd be mad at me too. "Listen Grace, we both had a long day yesterday and I know everything went left field but I hope today can be better. It's Christmas Eve." I said with a sincere smile playing on my lips.

I picked up the water and held it out to her. "Are you thirsty?" She shook her head. "Okay."

I put the drink down and turned to the clock on the wall, it read nine o'clock. From afar, I could hear angel banging pots and pans on the stove. He was about to cook breakfast. I hoped he didn't make grits. They look like pus and it smelled awful. I hated it when he ate that stuff in the house. It made the house smell repulsive.

I turned my attention back to Grace who was staring at me intently. "Breakfast should be ready soon. Are you hungry?" She still didn't reply. She was being stubborn. "Well, seeing you have nothing to say and we are waiting on out food how about we pass the time with me telling you a story?"

"Don't start without me!" Angel yelled from down the hall.

"I'll leave the door open so you can hear." I rolled my eyes. "Boyfriends, they are so damn bossy." I heard a slam of a pan louder than it needed to be which told me he heard me. "I love you!"

"Tell the damn story!"

My shoulders shook from my silent laughter. I looked up seeing Grace stare out the window. It was snowing and frost was crystallizing on the glass. "It's beautiful isn't it?" She didn't say anything but I did see her nod her head. "Right, so I said I was going to tell you a story." Grace turned around to look at me giving me her undivided attention. "Once upon a time . . . there was a insatiable beast who was madly in love with a handsome prince. The Insatiable loved the prince so much; he would do anything for him." I felt cold as a dark cloak fell over my body as the story was about to take its plunge into a dark spiral. "At least until the Insatiable found out his prince had betrayed him . . ."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: You have made it to Chapter One . . . congratulations. Bold writing = Narration. Disclaimer: We own nothing of Marvel. **

Chapter 1

**_Let's start with the origins of our prince, shall we? Please keep in mind this is not a fairytale or one to fill with you unspeakable joy. There is not such thing and I will not entertain you with such nonsense. With that being said, it all started in Whitecahapel, London 1990 . . ._**

**Whitechapel, London 1990**

It was winter and snow carpeted the ground. Snowflakes unhurriedly trickled down from the sky, swishing around in the wind. Watchful brown eyes followed the flurries fall. It was his favorite season. He didn't know why, but the winter always brought a sort of joy to the boy.

Bill Bellingtine sat in the isolated part of the playground as the other children played. The other children kept their distance from the quiet boy. When he was in school, they avoided him. They took extra precaution not to stand near him or ignored his presence when he was near. And the commercials and books always said children were warm angelic individuals. _Angelic my ass._

Though the other children and sometimes their parents treated the porcelain boy like the bubonic plague, it didn't bother him. In fact, he preferred it. He didn't have the patience to deal with minuscule things such as playing with toys and looking books with vicious creatures that ate green eggs and ham. What Bill did was read. Reading was knowledge and knowledge was substantial to the young one. Though he couldn't read books that were banned by his mother, he took pleasure in reading books about birds.

There wasn't any reason or rhyme why the boy loved to learn about birds. Besides it was the only thing he could read besides the bible, the feathered creatures intrigued Bill. His favorite among the aves was the Corvus Corax, the common raven. The black winged bird was a majestic creature. They had a certain air around them that made Bill spellbound. He had one of his own at home in his room. He often talked to it when he was alone and his mother occupied herself in her room.

Thinking about his mother brought shivers down his spine. His mother wasn't what anyone would call a normal mother. She was strict and her way of life was the life of the Bible. Before his thoughts could delve into the darkest recesses of his mind, a snowflake touched his nose snapping him out of his trance. Bill blinked his dark lashes coming back to the reality of a white winter. He slid off the bench until his knees hit velvety carpet of snow.

His small fingers dug into the snow feeling the coldness numb his fingers but strangely, he felt warm inside. From afar, a man sat in his car watching Bill play in the snow. He moved closer to the window until he could see his breath paint the glass. Brown eyes stared longingly at the boy. He felt the corner of his lips curl up as he watched as his son built a snowman.

The peculiar male couldn't keep his eyes off him. He was in awe about how one drunken night could endanger something so perfect, something so angelic. He has been watching Bill from afar since he was born. Bill's father and mother didn't get along. She was a cold and psychotic wench and Bill's father wanted nothing to do with her.

He wished he regretted that night but didn't have the strength to. Because though that drunken night brought about the worst company in existence, he could never regret helping procreate his son. When Elizabeth told him that she was pregnant, his heart tightened. He had never planned to be married or to have children, but when Liz told him about the baby he had never wanted anything more in his life. He was going to be a father. Everything was falling into place. Well, he thought it was. It wasn't until Elizabeth told him he had no right to care or see his son when his world corroded.

There wasn't a word that could describe his anger and hate for the mother of his child. It made him swell with rage that he had to sit on the sidelines and watch his son grow up without him. It burned his flesh that he could not see his son being born into this world. It hurt him not to know his son. It killed him when he could feel his boy's pain but couldn't do anything about it. So, he would wait. He would wait for the perfect moment to have his son in his arms. For now, he would wait patiently.

He turned the ignition on to his car ready to drive away from his perfect creation. He was ready to push his foot on foot peddle but stopped in mid-step. He eyes wandered back to Bill almost finishing the bottom half of his snowman. Before he knew what he was doing, he was opening the door letting the cold wind bite his face.

He threw out his the car and let his brown Doc Martens sink into the layered snow. One foot stepped in front of the other. The father's heart hammered against his ribs telling him this was happening. He was about to meet his son. Bill was gathering up to snow to place on top of his snowman when felt his heart flutter. Snow trickled from his reddish-blue fingertips as felt the quivering sensation.

Since Bill could remember, he always felt the same fluttering motion in his heart. It didn't happen all the time, but it happened on the most awkward of times. It usually happens when his mother sent him to his room or when Bill was staring out the window as if he was waiting for someone. Unbeknownst of him, the flutter was indicating that his father was near.

From the corner of the boy's eye, he could see brown boots coming towards him. The fluttering motion began to get painful. He sucked cold air through his teeth trying to hold in his scream from the pain. His hand searched for his chest trying to keep himself from falling over. Panic filled the small boy. His father saw this and was about to rush towards him but stopped seeing Bill steady himself.

Bill's dark lashes brushed against his creamy pinkish cheeks as he concentrated on calming himself. With steady breaths, he was able to regulate his heart and flush his panic away. His father stood wide-eyed in amazement. A small chuckle escaped him as he watched his son in action.

_'He is remarkable'_, his father thought as he continued his trail towards his son.

Once Bill was calm enough, he took another breath and let it out slowly. He watched the water vapor from his breath condenses and wrap itself around the snow flurries. Through the tiny fog, he could see blue clad jeans coming toward s him. Slowly his eyes traveled to the owner of the jeans. What he was met with was a man with tan skin; cheeks pink from the cold, brown shoulder length hair, and a strong bone structured face. However, what caught the small boy were the man's eyes. They were the exact shade as his.

They weren't just brown. There was something in them that resembled what the little boy could see when he looked into the mirror. There was something penetrating and magical within them. Something was yearning and clawing behind his eyes. When the stranger stopped in front of Bill, it was the first time he noticed how tall the man was. His neck strained trying to keep his eyes on the stranger.

Slowly he stood to his feet and took careful steps backwards until his backside hit the bench. Seconds went by as both son and father stared at each other. The male looked down at his son and felt his throat swell. He was here with his son. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides wanting to grab Bill and run. Instead, he decided to speak.

"Hello."

Bill flinched at the strangers words. It wasn't because he was scared of him, but because the small boy found the stranger's voice comforting. This made Bill curious of the strange man. He usually kept away from anyone he wasn't familiar with, but he could feel that he should know this man. Like a curious bird, Bill tilted his head to the side staring and waiting for the stranger to say something else.

"I see you are building a snow man." The stranger tried again.

Bill kept his eyes on the man lips as spoke then back to familiarity of his eyes. "Yes." He whispered softly.

The father's eyes began to sting hearing his son speak his first word. His awe began to melt away and felt his anger well up in him. He missed his son's first word. He missed all the gibberish that would bubble out of his mouth. What angered him more was his son never said the words 'dada' or 'dad' in his life. Instead, he grew up calling that bitch mother.

Bill's eyes bulged seeing the stranger's eyes blood with ire. Usually when someone was angry, their eyes darkened, but it wasn't the same for the man in front of him. The stranger's eyes were brighter turning from a dark mahogany color to a honey brown hue. It was fascinating to watch. The curious boy's heart fluttered again making him stop gazing at the man.

Feeling his son's discomfort, the father kneeled down to his height so he didn't seem scary to the small boy. "Your snowman looks good." Bill said nothing. "Do you need help?" he asked.

Bill stared at the stranger a moment trying to read him. It was easier to tell what was one's true intentions were. He got good at overtime when he understood what the word 'lie' meant. Little things would give them away. It could be a tremor of a hand, a shaking of a voice, sweating profusely, not able to make eyes contact, among other signs. However, with the stranger kneeling in front of him, he could see nothing but honesty within him. Knowing this made it all the easier to say yes to the man.

Father and son built the snowman. Only a few words were shared between the two, but neither of them gave it any mind. The silence wasn't unnerving and awkward but calming and consoling. Bill told the stranger about his likes and dislikes and the stranger sucked it in like a sponge. His father was proud and happy that he created someone as bright and well spoken as his son. The more he was basking in his son presence, the more his urge to take him continued to build.

An hour had passed when Bill realized it was almost time for his mother to pick him up. The boy felt torn. He didn't want to go, but he knew he had to. Bill stared closely at the stranger as he placed rocks in the snowman so it could have eyes. It felt right to be near this person and he couldn't understand why. With sadness he didn't know he could ever feel, Bill readied his mouth to speak on his departure.

"My mother is about to come."

The stranger hand stilled as he was about to place another rock into the snowman. The father's fist tightened around the rock. His soft flesh met the sharp ridges cutting into his skin. He felt the warmth of his blood leaking from his hand and slowly coating the stone. Before the red substance could drip on the pure white snow, he stood and hid his hand in his pocket.

"Which way is she coming from?" Bill pointed towards east of the playground. His car was on the opposite direction. He nodded then turned back to his son who was still looking at the direction his mother would be coming from. "Does your mother usually leave you in the playground by yourself?" Bill turned to the stranger and nodded then turned back to the same spot. "Does your mother . . ." He couldn't form the words. He was afraid if he asked, he wouldn't like the answer.

He took a deep breath and asked again. "Does your mother treat you right?"

He was looking for anything to give him clear hints that she had been hurting his child and his son did not disappoint. It wasn't noticeable to the naked eye or to anyone else, but to a parent they would know when their child was scared. Bill's body shivered when the stranger asked about his mother. The slight tremor was over before it could be noticeable, but his father caught it.

"I have to wait for my mother." Bill spoke softly to the stranger. He watched the man nod his head. Bill mimicked the nod and turned to walk towards the usual spot his mother picked him up from the park.

His father watched him go to wait for the wench. Pressure bubbled in his chest. He didn't like watching his son walking away from him. He bit the inside of his cheek wanting to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to say something, no, he needed to say something, but he knew he shouldn't. When thoughts turned to Elizabeth, vexation and venom churned in his stomach.

"Fuck it." He muttered to himself. "Hey!" He called out to Bill. The boy stopped his walking to turn back around to look at the stranger. "What's your name?" He knew his name. He always knew his sons name, but it was something about hearing his son speak his name. He needed to hear it. He wanted to remember it.

"It's Bill." The boy said carefully. Bill didn't know why he gave the stranger his name. It was quite stupid actually. He didn't know this stranger from a hole in the wall, but he gave him his name. Why would he do that?

"Bill." The man whispered to himself. "It's nice to meet you, Bill. My name is Lucas."

Bill let the name roll around in his head for a moment. "Lucas."

Lucas heart twisted hearing his son say his name. It wasn't 'dada' or 'dad' but he would take what he got. "Yes. It's Lucas. Remember it, okay?"

Bill nodded. "I will." He went to turn away but stop to turn back to Lucas. "Will you remember me?" He asked with unknown hope laced in his voice. Lucas smirked and nodded his head. Bill felt the corner of his mouth lift a bit before he turned to wait for his mother.

As Lucas watched his son walk away from his, an ache filled his chest. "I will be seeing you soon." He said to himself. He felt a buzz from inside his pocket. He whipped it out without losing sight of his son. "Yeah?"

"Where are you? We're waiting for you."

"I'm on my way."

**XXX**

Bill sat by the nearby bench at the far eastern corner of the park. As he kicked the snow with his sneaker, he was remembering his time with Lucas. He wanted to see him again and he didn't know why. He didn't know the man but he felt as though he should. Like there was an importance to him, but what was important? Why was this particular man important to him?

His thoughts fell away from him when he seen the familiar black 1931 four seat Dodge Roadster came up from down the street. Bill hated his mother's car. Everything about the vintage care felt sinister when he stepped into it. The feeling was complete opposite with Elizabeth. Her Roadster was her pride and joy. Black painted body and chrome embellished the rest. The emblem on the hood was a chrome angel with its wings elongated and hand reaching for the heavens while the other held a stone tablet to its chest.

"Come, boy." Elizabeth called out looking into the rear view mirror.

Bill wasted no getting inside the car. He opened the door to the backseat knowing better than to sit in the front with his mother. Elizabeth didn't want Bill to be close to her unless it was called for. When Elizabeth saw that her bastard son was buckled up, she took off. As Bill looked out to the outside world flourished in white snow, Elizabeth kept her eyes on the road. From time to time, her eyes would catch her spawn of a son looking out the window.

When Bill felt his mother's eyes leave him from the rearview mirror, he took the time to examine his mother's profile. His mother was a beautiful woman. Though she was forty-five and the premature wrinkles showed as such, she was still beautiful.

Her corn silk hair was long but she always kept it in a neat bun, never letting it down unless she was bathing. Her powder blue eyes sparkled and her skin was fair. Bill had the same milky-pigmented skin like his mother. Skin was smooth as silk and nails were neat and manicured. Her voice was soft and she spoke well mannered with her red-pillowed lips. She was flawless.

Bill could admit that his mother was beyond compare to any other women regardless of her age. The only thing that was ugly about his mother was her heart. It was blacker than the sludge in the sewers where rats feast on leftover scum from the upper world. She was an extremist religious woman. She believed everything through the eyes of God and his angels. Bill didn't know where she got her bible but he knew there was nothing Christian-y about it, but it was what he was raised with.

Elizabeth made it her business for her son to know the ins and outs of the bible. There were times she would wake him up out of his fitful sleep to recite scriptures. She was a maniac and Bill had to suffer from her delusions.

"How was your day at the park, boy?" Elizabeth spoke. The way she spoke to him was like a snake hissing in his ear. Venom dripped on the word boy and it stung him every time she said it.

Sluggishly he turned towards her disdained voice. "It was fine, mother."

"Do you meet any one new today?" Elizabeth asked while casting her steely blue eyes through the rearview mirror to watch her son.

The boy's mind went straight to Lucas. It was on his tongue to say yes but a burning in his chest ignited. He tucked the name under his tongue for safekeeping. "No I did not, mother."

Unaware of his lie, the religious woman nodded her head. "Good." Her eyes went back to the road in front of her. "Make sure you don't. Who knows what demon would swarm out of your hellfire body onto an innocent."

Bill held in his sigh and turned away to look at the white flurries against the window. "Yes, mother." There was no more conversation after that.

When they arrived home, they started their routine. Bill took off his sneakers and placed them by the door then unwrap his outerwear and hung it on the hook. He walks into the living room, get on his knees, and prayed. When he was done praying, his mother would send him to his room until supper was ready. After supper, he would read his scriptures, do his homework if it was a weekday, wash and brush his teeth, then go to bed. It was the same thing every day.

When Bill finished his prayer, he stood from his kneeing position and turned to see his mother was staring at him. The way she eyed him brought back the chill. His skin crawled at every place her eyes landed on his body. When her eyes landed on his face, it took everything in him not to flinch. She looked at him with so much hatred and shame. There was no love, no acceptance, no heartening emotions ever radiated from her.

Elizabeth lulled her head to the side never letting her eyes waver from her bastard son. Bill swallowed the pending lump in his throat. He couldn't understand such a small gesture could look so intimidating. She had the graceful movement of a black mamba abiding its time until it strikes.

"Go to your room and take out your bible. I expect you to know scriptures from twelve through twenty by the time you rest your head." She waited for Bill to nod his head before she continued. "I will call you for supper when it is ready. Tonight we're having beef stroganoff with custard bread." Bill nodded again. "Off you go, boy."

Bill walked passed his mother. The off-putting chill from Elizabeth clung to his skin until he was in his safe haven, his room. With the door clicking shut, he locked the door and let out the breath he had been holding in since he stopped prayer. The Fear that clung to his milky flesh began to shed off him melting to the awful dark green carpet. Bill took another breath and welcomed the smell of his safe place.

A caw caught his attention. Bill faced his raven that sat in a birdcage by his window. The majestic bird flitter its wing seeing her master. Its beady eyes peered down its beak seeing her master coming forward. It zeroed in on its master as he came forward. Bill stared at the bird and stroked its long black bird. The sun was peeking through the grey clouds and the light shined on the bird's feathers. To most, the raven's feathers looked black, but with a careful eye, deep purple and harsh blues could be seen on its wings and slick back.

Bill opened the cage placing his index finger in the cage. The raven understood what its master wanted. She stepped her black talons around his finger. Bill carefully took the bird from the cage and sat on the edge of his bed.

"I hate her." He started. Gradually, he was becoming more into himself. Behind closed doors, he could emerge into his own. The porcelain boy was not what he seemed. He was quiet and watchful. To some, it would be unnerving. He was disturbing. Children thought he was a freak, while parents thought him damaged and in a way, he was. However, it wasn't the damaged they would think they would know. Bill was otherworldly. "I hate her." He said this time not holding back his spurn.

The black bird cawed to its master's fueling rage. Only the bird knew what her master's real face looked like. The bird picked her head up motioning her master's attention. Hearing his pet, he looked down at her. Her stroked the tip of her beak then continued to look at the door. He could hear his mother opening and closing the cabinets then the banging of pots and pans.

"I want her gone." He said aloud. "I want her gone out of my life. I want to be rid of her existence for I am never free from her." He looked down at the raven tucked under his hands.

For years, he had been under his mother's thumb. Not only was she a religious cow, but she was also a child abuser. It all started when he was five years old. Bill had finished putting away his drawing things when his mother busted into his room. He went to ask her what was wrong but halted his speech. Elizabeth looked the same. She had the same neat hair, the same step-ford dress, same stilted posture, and same immaculate beauty. There wasn't anything that was out of place on her, but Bill knew better.

He saw something inside his mother. Something crazed and demented overshadowing her. It didn't have a face. It was only a dark and thin figure hovering over her. Elizabeth's powdered blue eyes altered into a darker sinister hue. She was disconnected from the living and on another plane. When she took a step towards him, his heart had sunk. From that day forward, it marked the boy. It was the first time his mother laid a hand on him.

Throughout his years, he had been beaten, burned, poked, pricked, sliced, broken, whipped, and other things no child should imagine at a young age. She not only physically abused him, but she also attacked him emotionally. Repeatedly, she would tell him that he was a told him he was unloved. She told him that he was a mistake. He has been called every name in the book. Sinful child, devil spawn, uncleanly one, bastard, mistake, creature, demon, filth, but her favorite was boy.

It wasn't the word he had a problem with, it was the way she said it. It was an insult to his everyday life. True he was a boy, but her tone was never to be mistaken. When Bill heard Elizabeth call him _"boy"_, he heard _"I hate you"_, _"Your existence bother me"_, _"Death will meet you soon"_ and _"I wish you were never born"_. It was an insult within a promise within pure loathing. Elizabeth made sure to show her disgust and displeasure when it came to Bill.

When she was finished emotionally picking at him, she assailed him mentally. It was unexplainable how she did it, but she did. It would always start out as a strumming in his mind then the strumming turned into a pulsing pain. The pain then transformed into excruciating torment. His body would lock in place and his fingertips would burn. Webs upon webs of pain and distress fall upon the boy. To make it worse, she made him read her bible.

Sometimes Bill didn't understand what he was reading. There was a distinctive difference between his mother's bible and others seen. When he vocalized his findings, Elizabeth struck him.

"There is only one leader among us mortals!" She roared in his face. "There is only one ruler among us that leads us to salvation!" The crazed look in his mother's eyes he never would forget. "Do not question his worthiness with this trash talk that tumbles from that pathetic hole you call a mouth." She said firmly looking down on him. "Remember that, boy." Bill never questioned her again.

Bill looks down at his bird pecking at his hand telling her master she was hungry. He stood from his bed and grabbed the bag of grain on his desk. He sat down on the chair, took out a handful of grain, and poured it on his desk. The raven hopped off her master and began pecking at her food.

"I'm going to leave this place." Bill hunched over his desk and sat his chin on his crossed arms. "And when I do, I'll get stronger." The raven lifted her head from her snack and made eye contact with her master. She heard the promise within his words. He would get strong. He would do this. "When I do," He stokes the back of the bird's back. "I'll kill her." The softness in his voice created eeriness in his words. The chill caressed the raven's feathers striking fear in its tiny form.

Yes, she was the only one that could see her master's true face.

**XXX**

Down the hall from Bill's room were Elizabeth sleeping quarters. After she set the beef broth in the pot and water in the saucepan of pasta, she entered into her room for a moment of clarity. Like Bill, the woman shed her skin taking on her true form. She locked her door and took off her blue kitten heel. She set her shoes on the side her door and let her feet crush the white pristine carpet. Through the whole house, there was dark wood floors and ugly green carpet, but Elizabeth made sure her room was different.

Her room mirrored her – beautiful, graceful, and pure. There was nothing but white and silver through her room. She took a breath smelling the fresh linen smell coming from her sheets. She was in her haven. She pushed herself from the door to sit at her white Victorian vanity that was gift from her mother. A cross necklace hung on the side and her makeup splayed out on the vanity table. Through the mirror, she could see her most prized procession that came second to her roadster, her mirror.

She looked over her shoulder eyeing the mirror seeing reflection. To everyone else, they could see the aging lines on her face, but looking in the mirror she was the perfect image of vanity. Her porcelain skin was clear from blemishes. Her eyes sparkled. Her hair was lighter. Pink blush painted her high cheekbones. She was the image of perfection.

"Hello, my friend." She spoke to the mirror.

Elizabeth stood from her vanity chair to walk towards one of her prized possessions. It was true that her roadster was her pride and joy but the vintage car was nothing compared to her treasure. She walked up slowly to the mass that almost took up the centre of her white walls. Swan wings of pewter hinged up against the wall. The grayish alloy tucked its wings overlapping one another hiding its true beauty from her.

Elizabeth stuck out her hand, brushing the alloyed feathers. She stepped back and watched the wings flutter. Unhurriedly the wings began to expand uncovering its beauty. The alloyed wings sprawled across her entire walling filling the room with its luminous glows as the wings tilted to the high heavens. Elizabeth took in every curve and groove of the elongated wings to admire its splendor. Nestled in between the wings was a plane mirror. Gold covered the mirror frame and on its four sides were engraved angels.

Elizabeth ran her fingers on the side of the gold frame. Her eyes wandered until she met with her reflection. When looking in the mirror, the religious pioneer did not see her image how the world saw her. To people of the lively world, Elizabeth was a picturesque woman of the age of forty-five. However, when she looked in the enchanted mirror she was half her age.

Gone were the premature wrinkles that tarnished her face and replaced with smooth pigment. Her milky skin had a glow and her cheeks were blushed. Her lips were full and lush. Her eyes were alert and bright. Her corn silk hair took on a lighter hue of the glow of the golden dawn of the sun. She was angelic. She was an image of perfection.

She stared at her profile taking in her vain and throes. She was indeed perfect. Getting back to the matter at hand, she leaned into the mirror as if she was giving her reflection a kiss. Her lips brushed against her own to whisper, "I release you from you bonds."

Elizabeth felt the familiar shift in the air when she saw her reflection warp into something that wasn't her own. The glass began to take form of a silvery liquid swishing around against the four golden walls of the frames. No matter how many times the woman witnessed the mirror take its true form, she could never get used to it. To her eyes, this was the true meaning of the word regal.

"Is it time?" Elizabeth asked in a reverent voice.

The silver substance pressed its mass out to form a blank featureless face. "Yes, it is time." The voice sounded muffled as if it was under water. Its tone was detached and cold sending bites of Arctic chilled down the meek woman's spine.

"I am ready to serve the most high." Elizabeth bowed her head meekly.

"Are you?"

Elizabeth raised her head but not looking forward. Her eyes stayed planted on her feet. "Yes."

"We shall see." The head turned to the door leading to the hallway. "I can hear the devil's spawn breathing." It turned its gaze to the top of Elizabeth's head. "It must be done tonight." It said gravely.

"I understand."

"There will be no mistakes."

"I know. I will not disappoint."

The silver substance pressed back inside the mirror. Carefully, Elizabeth raised her head seeing the glass matter slide itself onto the floor. Silver droplets fell on the white carpet until the body no long filled the golden frame. Elizabeth moved back from the puddle eyeing it warily. At a snail pace the metallic puddle began to rise. Elizabeth's powder blues kept her eyes trained on the silver form rising.

The matter began to take form into a body of a woman. Its wings folded neatly behind its back as it stood towering over the woman in front of it. "You will not fail."

"I know. I –"

"Silence!" It bellowed causing mirrors of different shapes and sizes around Elizabeth's room to quake. The servant let out a pitiful whimper as she bowed her head lower. "I do not need to hear your form of discourse. I need your compliance." Its tall frame leaned down over Elizabeth. The faithful and loyal acolyte stood looking down keeping her composure. "Are we clear?" There was no answer. "Answer me, mortal."

"Yes." Elizabeth nodded her head submissively. "Yes."

**_That Elizabeth was a sneaky bitch. While her devious plan were formulating, the prince was lying comfortably in his bed . . . _**

**XXX**

An hour had passed since Bill had vented to his pet. The boy lay on his back looking at his dingy white ceiling as he stroked the rim of his worn bible. The raven was in her cage nestled on her swing staring at her master. The bird's head lulled to side as she heard someone coming close to her master's door. A minute later the door opened as Elizabeth walked in.

Snapping out of his daze, Bill hopped from his bed with speed he didn't know he was capable of to stand. Bill stood to his full height. He cast his eyes on his mother and noticed that her attention wasn't on him. He followed her gaze and it landed on the bible sprawled out on the floor. During his rush to stand, the porcelain boy had forgotten about the book on his chest.

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat holding back from wincing for his throat had ran dry out of fear. His eyes trained on Elizabeth whose eyes were on the fallen book. Fear pricked at the boy's skin as he peered silently at his mother. He didn't know what she was going to do. Elizabeth was unpredictable. Who knew what type of torture she would enact on the boy. The only thing Bill could do was wait patiently for the pending lashing he was about to receive.

Elizabeth stared at the fallen object lying by the filth's feet. It took every fiber of her being not lash out the boy. With the warning, the angel had spoken to her before she left her room rung in her ears.

_'Do not strike him. He must remain unblemished by your touch. He will need to be whole and unwounded. It is imperative for the cleansing.'_

All twenty-five words played repetitively in her head like a mantra. Those same twenty-five words kept her hands at her sides. The twenty-five words were a blessing in disguise. The only thing that kept the twisted thirst to harm the boy physically, mentally, and emotionally for doing something so unforgivable as dropping something as precious as life itself on the murky green carpet floor. Such filth!

"Why are you standing there?" Bill shook slightly hearing his mother's eerie calm voice. "Pick it up, boy."

"Yes, mother." Bill bent down to pick up the bible and placed it on his nightstand facing down.

"Sit up straight, boy!" His mother raged. She could feel her patience slipping away. Bill quickly sat the book up and moved to his earlier position facing his mother. Elizabeth kept her eyes on the bible on the nightstand.

It felt as though an eternity passed by to Bill until his mother finally looked at him. She always gave the same look him. Sometimes he found himself hoping to see a different etch on her face other than disparagement. It was only wishful thinking and Bill knew that.

"Supper is ready. Wash your hands before you sit down."

"Yes, mother."

Elizabeth turned and left out the door leaving Bill by himself. From behind, the raven kept her eyes on the door. When the mother left, the vigilant bird felt something, something lurking in the corner of her master's room. Her black eyes captured a glint of something on the floor sliding underneath her master's door. It was something silver.

Elizabeth waited for her bastard child to arrive in the kitchen. As she scooped the beef from the pot, she could hear the pitter-patter of her son's feet. From the corner of her eye, looking down at her was the silver angel by the corner ceiling by the archway leading out to the dining room. When Bills footsteps became closer, the angel turned its head waiting for the boy to enter.

Oblivious of its presence, Bill walked straight through the archway leading into the kitchen. When the boy walked past the bookshelf, he felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. He froze mid-step in front of the bookshelf just before the archway leading to the kitchen. Elizabeth heart began to beat wildly seeing the sight displayed before her. Elizabeth held in her breath. Her hands felt behind grabbing the chef knife she used to cut the beef. Her hand wandered blindly until she grasped the handle.

The boy had no clue what was going on. He didn't know why he felt out of sort with himself but he did. He took his time letting his eyes wander around the room but saw nothing out of place. So why did he feel as though something was watching him, something sinister. Shaking the chill off him, Bill turned back to his mother who stood stiffly by the counter.

Mother and son stared at each other in silence. The smell of beef broth filled the space and the water was running in the sink from Elizabeth washing dishes. Elizabeth still had her hand folded behind her with the knife. "Are you going to stand there? Get in here and eat your supper."

Usually, he would follow what his mother commanded and answer 'Yes, mother.' As he always did, but something in the boy's gut was telling him not to go in the kitchen. Warning bells and red flags flew up in the scared boy's mind. Without leaving his mother's gaze, he took a step back.

Elizabeth saw this and began to feel her anger pricking at her skin. "Don't make me say it again, boy." Taking another step backwards, Bill shook his head no.

"No?" She said almost shocked. "No?" She said again simply unable to fathom the word 'No'. Her blues orbs darkened as her eyes squinted. Red heat piled on her skin making her creamy skin look pink. "You dare disobey me?"

Bill turned to leave but felt like he couldn't move. The eerie chill he felt from before no longer came from around him, only behind him. The angel who sat patiently on the ceiling was standing behind the boy. Its silver wings expanded on its side blocking Bill's way from turning around. Bill was frightened and for the first time in all his years, he felt the familiar prick behind his eyes. He felt a streak of warmth fall down his left cheek. He was crying.

Seeing the bastard cry made Elizabeth ire rise even more. Without noticing, Elizabeth took the knife from behind her back and began to walk forward. Still unable to move, Bill leaned his body away from his mother. His mouth opened trying to form words but his pleas were stuck in his throat.

His mother kept moving towards him with steadied steps. She didn't want to rush. She wanted to take in this joyous moment. She wanted to remember what the bastard looked like this exact moment. Thinking about it almost brought tears to her eyes."It is time for you to be cleansed." Bill shook his head as tears ran down his face. Elizabeth stood looking at the filth cowering like the rat he was. "It is time."

**XXX**

In eastern end of Whitechapel on the corner of second and Jamaica where apartment complexes were built, Lucas was doing pull ups on the steel bar hanging above the doorway between his room and the hallway. His long frame moved up and down from the steel pipe. His navy blue shorts slung low on his hips displaying the defined 'V' junction connecting his legs and hip and showing two black mamba tattoos slithering up each leg. His tanned skin flushed from the heat building up as he worked out. It was on his twentieth lift that he felt his arms and shoulders sing in pain. With one last pull up, Lucas dropped down from steel bar finishing his workout.

He swiped his towel of the nearby chair to wipe the sweat off his face and torso. He threw the towel away and inhaled deep the cleanliness of his apartment. Every nook and cranny of his apartment was kept spotless and sanitized. Anything dirty or out of place would cause the man to have an urge to eradicate the filth. There wasn't much in his apartment, except the essentials that he uses on day-to-day bases. There weren't any decorations or pictures hanging around, only his paintings.

When he had time, Lucas would paint. Many of his original paintings were stored in his back room, but only his favorites were hung on the walls of his small apartment, all five of them. There were the coyotes with glassy yellow snake eyes, a woman in the cold embrace of a snake beast, another with crocodiles with goats as heads, a raven perched looking down on its prey, and his pride and joy that stood above the mantel, a painting a skull.

Lucas eyed each of his painting and couldn't help but wonder if his boy had the same talent for painting as he did? Before his mind could fall into a comfortable realm, Lucas made himself go into the bathroom to shower. He had sweated hard on his workout and began to feel sticky. He cut on the shower and let the pipes run hot. He checked himself out in the mirror and grunted at the sight. He hated being dirty.

The brown-eyed man stared at his profile and saw improvement on his muscular arms. His eye wandered down to the tattoo of a demonic heart over his own. The heart itself was black with hues of dark purples, blues, and harsh green to show the rot. Maggots spilled out of the artery and poked out of the stitches that held the battered heart together. He designed the tattoo himself. He got it after he found out he was going to be a father.

His back tattoo however was old. It was a raven, very similar to the raven in his painting, within a thick-banded circle. The raven had his wings tucked at its' sides and soulless eyes were watchful. Its beak was sharp and its talons were open as if it was about to swoop down to catch its prey. The back tattoo started in between his shoulder blades and stopped at end of his back. The black bird contrasted nicely with his skin and his broad back showed every detail of the raven.

Lucas had noticed that his son and he shared the same liking towards the majestic bird. He realized how badly he wanted to teach him everything he knew. He yearned to be the father role model that his father wasn't to him. He had to learn the cruelty of the world on his own at a young age. He would not let his son suffer the same consequences and he certainly wouldn't let that bitch drown his mind with foolishness her rambled mind created

Soon as the thought of the wench entered his mind, he felt a chill run up his back. Lucas straightened feeling the cold prick at his skin. Elizabeth was doing something. He hurriedly cut off the shower and sat in silence hoping what he felt was wrong. The weird sensation did not disappoint, because it attacked him from all sides. He took a step to open the door but almost toppled over when he felt a tug on his chest.

Lucas clutched his hand over his heart as he felt another tug. "Bill?" Another pull tugged at him but this time harder.

Lucas wasted no time running out the bathroom, out his bedroom, passed his living and out the door. He ran down the hall to his friend's apartment. He banged on the puke green door with urgency.

"Simon!" He knocked harder feeling the rush of tugs come upon him. "Simon, damn it! Open up!"

He stopped knocking when Simon swung the door open. Simon was cooking supper for his son when he heard a loud banging on the door. He snatched his son's safari knife off the table and held it by his side. When he heard Lucas voice he sighed in annoyance and it showed on his face.

"What the hell is the matter with you? I'm about to have supper with my boy."

"Bill is in trouble." Lucas rushed out.

"What? What do you mean in trouble?" Simon's frown began to deepen.

From behind, Simon's son came from the other room wondering what the noise was about. "Dad?" The chubby kid stood in the middle of the room eyeing their guest. His hair was a bird's nest from just getting out of bed. He was in a fitful sleep until he heard loud knocking at the door. His blue eyes peaked open as the voices from outside his door entered his ear. Biting his lip, he chose to get out of his comfortable bed to see what was happening.

Simon turned to his son and his frown disappeared. "I'll be right with you buddy. Go wait in the kitchen for me, okay?" His son nodded his head and left but not before he got a look at a hysterical looking Lucas.

When Simon could see his boy was no longer in earshot, he turned back to a nervous Lucas rubbing his tattoo of the demon heart. He pushed Lucas back, so he could step outside with him to calm his friend down. "Relax."

"You're telling me to relax when my son could be hurt?" Lucas yelled incredulously. "We are wasting time. That bitch is doing something to my son. I can feel it. If you're not going to drive me, just –"

"Calm down." Simon stared at Lucas. "Now." His voice was low and almost threatening with the harshness from his Brooklyn accent. His tone left nothing up for discussion and Lucas knew that. The hysterical dad licked his lips when he felt Simon's breath tickle his bottom lip. When Simon could see Lucas calm enough, he spoke again. "Now, tell me everything."

As quickly as he could, Lucas relayed everything what happened. Simon took in everything that his friend was saying and didn't waste any time in grabbing his keys, coat, and son. When he came back out to the hall, he looked at Lucas' attire. "Luke."

"What?"

"Put on a shirt and coat. My kid is out here and your nipples are out. You could poke someone's eye out." He muttered the last bit as he grabbed his son's hand to move passed Lucas and went down the stairs. "We'll wait for you in the car."

Lucas ran into his apartment and threw on any shirt he could find and his jacket in left. He met Simon as he was pulling up to the sidewalk on their side of the building. The father hopped in and Simon pulled off like a bat out of hell. Through the car ride, the tugs kept coming and the more they came, the more he began to fidget. He could feel his son's fear to his very marrow. He had to get to him.

From the corner of his eye, Simon could see Lucas bouncing his knees. His blue eyes travelled up to his friend's face and saw the worry anchoring on his flesh. He took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on Lucas' jostled leg. Lucas stopped to look down at the hand. Simon gave him a comforting squeeze, silently telling Lucas everything was going to be fine. When Simon felt his passenger was under control, he took his hand away and grabbed his son's safari knife from his pocket.

"Take this." He held out the knife for Lucas to take. Lucas never looked a gifted horse in the mouth and he wasn't going to start now. He took the knife and stuffed it in his coat pocket. When he grabbed it, Simon placed his hand back on the steering wheel. He looked through the rearview mirror to find his son looking out the window. "You got your seat belt on, buddy?" The boy nodded his head. "Good." Simon attention went back to the road in front of him. "Because daddy is about to drive a lot faster."

**XXX**

Back at the flat, Bill was still in his comatose state knocked out by his mother. He didn't remember with what, but he did know he was asleep for a long time. While in the deep sleep, he heard voices. They were muddled but he knew one of them was his mother. As the fog began to clear from his mind, he felt a series of tugs on his chest as he had earlier at the park. A flutter in his heart came when he was near Lucas.

Bill was dragged out of his muggy thoughts when he felt his body being picked up. He opened his eyes and saw his mother carrying him. Her eyes were not on him but towards something. Some sort of peace fell over him when he thought everything that happened was a dream. The pleasuring thought ripped from him when his eyes were cast on the open oven. Bill shook violently then looked up to his mother who was looking down at him. Her eyes had a faraway look to them and it scared little Bill to pieces.

Elizabeth was looking down at her spawn of a child, but she did not see the porcelain boy with wide brown eyes, and soft brown hair. Such images reminded her of his soulless father. Looking at her son made her sick to her stomach. When the doctor first gave Bill to her, her first thought was to kill it. She never saw him as a baby, but as a demon in disguise. Now looking down on him as he was about to be cast out of this world, she could see his true face, a face of a hell demon. Through her eyes, the demon was black and scaly with eyes as red as the devil. She must cast this creature away from her and the innocence of the earth.

Bill's pleas went on deaf ears. He pulled and pushed Elizabeth to let him go but her grip got tighter. Bill was moving around as if he were a cod caught on a hook as Elizabeth moved closer to the oven. She was going to burn him alive and no one would know except, Elizabeth and the angel who was watching from behind its servant.

"Please, mother. Please, don't do this." Streams of tears ran down his face as he begged his mother to spare him. He hated her. There was no secret about that, but she was still his mother. There was a bond between them. It was strained but it was a bond nonetheless. He knew Elizabeth hated him and the feeling was mutual, but he would have never thought his mother would kill him.

Bill struggled to get free but Elizabeth held him tightly to her chest as if she was comforting a newborn child. "You shall be cleansed. You were never supposed be born, spawn. I tried to save your soul but the demon rages inside of you like a disease. I'm sorry my, son." Elizabeth stares down at him with no pity or remorse in her powder blues.

"No! Stop it!" Bill yelled at Elizabeth began to lower him down into the hot oven. "Stop! Let me go!" Bill wiggled and pushed. "LET ME GO!"

As those three words left his lips, a crash came through the door. Elizabeth startled by the crash, dropped Bill on the floor. She whipped around to see a very pissed off Lucas. She couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing. She shook her head as she stepped back to the counter.

Lucas had his eyes on Elizabeth then on Bill. He was on the floor trying to get up but couldn't. Rage filled the father when he realized his son was holding his hand to chest. His son was hurt. Elizabeth hurt his son. Lucas' attention came back to a cowering woman still shocked from his presence.

"Hello, Liz."

Hearing his voice washed her stupor state and brought back the familiar ire when she thought about the devil spawn's father, the devil himself. "Creature." She said lowly. "Come to save the day?" She taunted with a grim smile.

"What are you doing, Elizabeth?" Lucas walked inside the kitchen passed the silver angel. As he walked closer to Elizabeth, he noticed the cross-shaped scar on her right wrist. He didn't linger on it too long. He would have to save this little piece information for later. Right now, his priority was getting his son out of dodge.

"I'm ridding the world of this son of perdition. He wasn't supposed to be born in this world."

"So you would kill him?" He Lucas was beginning to lose his control. "You would kill your own son?"

"HE IS NO SON OF MINE!" She bellowed. She picked up the knife she had before and pointed at Lucas. "And I won't let you come into MY home and carry that thing out of this place." She titled her head to the side looking through her lashes. "And neither will you."

Lucas had enough of the filth coming from her mouth. He took out the blade Simon gave him and hurdled himself towards her but Elizabeth moved out the way in time to slice him with her knife. The blade nicked his cheek but Lucas couldn't feel it. He was far too gone to care about pain. The only thing he was thinking about was to get Bill as far away from his psychotic mother. Lucas wanted to kill the bitch, but he didn't have time to clean up the mess. With that being said, he told Simon to call the police while he stalled.

They danced around the kitchen trying to outdo the other, but got nowhere quickly. Lucas was getting frustrated. He needed to get his son out. From the corner of his eye, he saw the pan on the stove. An idea clicked in his head. Elizabeth seeing an opportunity to strike cut Lucas' other cheek. As he hissed in pain, Elizabeth swung but Lucas was quicker and hit Liz with the pot. The crazed woman fell to the floor knocked out.

Lucas turned to a cowering Bill who molded himself to the kitchen wall. Rope was tied around his ankles and arms. The father bit back his anger seeing the sight before him as he loosened the knots. "Are you alright?" He voice came out hoarser than he wanted it to.

Bill didn't say anything but nodded. He didn't understand why the stranger saved him or how he knew he was in trouble, but he was grateful that the stranger didn't forget about him. When his hands were free, he dove into Lucas' arms. He winced where he moved his wrist but he didn't mind. He was fine and he was safe.

Bill opened his eyes and gasped as he saw Elizabeth stand. "She's awake, Lucas." He whispered in his father's ear.

Lucas sat him down on the floor. "Stay right here. The police are on their way." He waited for Bill to nod when he moved to go against Liz again. His grip around the safari knife tightened ready to drive the sharp blade through her black heart if he needed to.

Elizabeth swayed on her feet but managed to keep her body from falling."Just watching you two sickens me to my core."

"Well, I can say the same when I look at you. You used to have such a pretty face. Now you're just old." He knew where to strike to hurt and knew what would send her into a wild wind of fury. She hated when someone attack her about her vanity. "Old and washed up." He smiled coyly.

Elizabeth's nose flared. She went to say something spiteful but her words were caught in her throat. Looking at the window above her sink, she could see her reflection. The woman was unkempt from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Her neatly placed bun was unraveling. Her creamy skin was marked with bruises from the blow from the pot. Her dress was tattered and her kitten heel broke. The woman in front of her did not portray beauty or perfection and it angered her greatly.

From the corner of the kitchen, the angel stared at its servant. It purposely made Elizabeth see what she looked like. It only fueled her anger and gave her the right motivation to kill the bastard and the bastard's son.

Elizabeth turned her eyes away from the horrid reflection to stare at the man who started this. She stared at the man that helped ruined her life. She wanted to end it. Streaks of tears ran down her cheeks but her tears were not for sadness. She was filled with so much hate and wroth, that it could not be contained. Only tears could suffice.

"I," she started in a voice so detached that it made both son and father coil back. "Am going," she took a step. "To kill," another step. "You," she pointed to Lucas then points to Bill. "And you." She lulled her head to the side and smiled as tears continued to run down her face. "I will make you both pay."

With speed neither Lucas nor Bill had ever seen, Elizabeth dashed into Lucas personal space to stab his chest. Lucas dipped out of the way causing the raging woman to bump into the stove, but Elizabeth recovered quickly taking the pan from the stove and swung with all her might to hit Lucas directly in the face. Blood spilt from his mouth and splattered on the floor. He stumbled backwards losing his grip on the knife. Elizabeth didn't give him any time to recover. She swung the pan again, hitting him in the back of the head.

Elizabeth watched the bastard fall into a heap on the white and green tiled floor. She took satisfaction looking at the deed she did for the world. Joy filled her and angry tears turned to happiness. She turned to Bill who was looking a Lucas' body. "It is your turn, boy."

She moved to stab him but Bill got out the way to run. He tripped over Lucas' body and fell. He looked up from the floor and saw the blade Lucas' had before. Unbeknownst of Bill's findings, Elizabeth snatched him off the floor. Bill grabbed the safari knife and sliced Elizabeth's face. The woman yelped as she covered her bloodied face.

Bill watched in horror as his mother tore everything apart in the kitchen. Her screams bounced off the walls and her fury spilled as fast as the blood leaking from her face. She roared as if she were demon being crucified. Bill had never seen his mother this angry. He was enamored by his mother's pain that he did not hear the door open.

Police entered the flat and surrounded the hysterical woman. They grabbed as she fault back. She wailed and cursed as they put handcuffs on her.

"My face! Look what he did to my face!" She rambled on.

The police didn't pay her psychobabble any mind and dragged her out the door. "No! You don't understand! He must be cleansed! He must be cleansed!" Bill moved to look outside to his mother being dragged to a white van. "You traitors! All of you are traitors! You would turn your back on the most high! Let me go!"

Bill shuddered when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find Lucas. Bill jumped into his arms and Lucas pulled him close. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"No." Bill said quietly burying himself in Lucas' neck.

Lucas left the flat heading for Simon's car. Elizabeth was still screaming damnation on everyone until she stopped to look at the men of her undoing. "You!" She roared. Bill picked his head up to see her. "This is not the end." Her screams settled down to the calm collected voice always used. "I'll be seeing you again, boy." She smiled as the nurse turned her around but her cold eyes stayed on Bill's. "I can wait."

The boy's stomach churned hearing his mother promise to see him again. His arms wrapped around Lucas' neck and the father held his boy tighter to him. All the while, Bill never let his gaze shift from his mothers and the mothers never left her sons. The intense stare was broken when one of the police officer shoved Elizabeth into back of the police car. Her screams started back up again. Though the boy wanted to tune her out, he couldn't help but be compelled to hear a confession that sparked his interest.

"The mirror, it was the mirror!" She bellowed from the back seat. "The mirror made me do it!"

Bill knew exactly what mirror she was talking about. His eyes traveled to the window where his mother's bedroom was. Brown eyes bulged as he saw a figure standing in his mother's room. His heart skipped beat when he noticed the figure was staring at him. The figure didn't have a face but Bill knew it was staring at him. What caught him off guard were the wings behind its back, the same wings his mother had hanging on her walls.

Bill pinched his eyes closed wishing the sight away. He slowly opened his eyes and seen that the winged figure was gone from his mother's room. He wasn't sure if the figure was real or not, but he had no intention to see it again. He nestled his face into Lucas' neck. He breathed in deeply smelling the stranger's scent. He smelled of sweat but under the salty aroma was an earthy smell. Bill paid attention to only that scent. Slowly but surely, the porcelain boy was calm and felt at peace in the arms of a stranger.

Lucas was tired and his body felt as though it might break down on him in the middle of the street. Knowing this didn't put a damper on his mood. He was happy that his son was safe and away from the enthusiast worshipper. Up ahead he could see Simon leaning against his car and his son staring out the window. He was almost home free and he would have his son with him. Excitement pooled in his heart and warmth filled his insides. He was going to be with his son, finally.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Lucas' steps halted. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again with premature fear coming up his spine. Unhurriedly he turned around facing the officer. "Yes?"

"I am Officer Lahote. Is that the prisoner's son?"

Lucas' eyes slit making the officer put his hand on his gun. The father held on to his boy tighter, not willing to let him go. "Yes." He answered with a shaky voice.

"I'm sorry, sir. We have to take the boy."

Lucas felt Bill shiver in his arms. "I can take him."

"That's not how this work, sir." Officer Lahote held out his hands to take Bill. "Hand him over."

Lucas took a step back. He couldn't lose son. He finally had him and now someone was going to take him away from him again. Eight years, that was how long he had to watch his son grow from afar. Eight years he had to know that his son couldn't be in his arms. Eight years of eternal hell without his boy near him and now he finally had him. He had Bill where he needed to be, in his father's arm and now they wanted to take him away.

Tears stung the father's eyes as pressed his son to his chest. "I can take care of him. He's safe with me."

From afar, Simon could see Lucas talking to the police officer. His back straightened when he noticed Lucas retreating slowly backwards. His son was looking at the same scene his father was, but his attention soon turned to Bill. He knew he had seen his face before, but failed to remember where.

"Sir, we need –"

"He's fine!" Lucas yelled losing his patience. His eyes traveled down to the police officer's wrist and noticed the trigger-happy hand Lucas bit the inside of his cheek holding in his anger. This was not going how he planned.

Two more officers came up from behind Lahote for back up. "Sir, do we have to use force?" The officer had endured a long night and he didn't feel like dealing with unnecessary bullshit.

Bill buried his face in Lucas' neck. He didn't want to go with anyone but Lucas. He wanted to yell at the cop to leave him alone, but he found he was too scared to say so. Lucas could feel his son's fear. He stroked his son's back and carded his thick fingers into his son's curly brown hair.

"Listen officer," Lucas tried to rein in his anger. He didn't want to spill any blood tonight, not while his son was near him. "I know you are doing your job, but the kid is fine with me. You see he knows me. Look how calm he is." It was true. The boy in his arms was relaxed. He was a bit scared but he knew he was going to be sheltered with care by Lucas. Stranger or not, Bill trusted him for some reason. He didn't care for the reason; he only knew what he felt.

"Please." A man of his stature refuses to beg. Lucas had too much pride in himself to beg to anyone, but for his little boy he would bury his pride. "Please, let me take him."

"What relations are you to the boy?" Officer Lahote asked with a raised brow.

Lucas' mouth opened to speak but he closed it quickly. The words, 'I am his father' was sitting heavily on his tongue. His throat swelled trying to break those four words through his mouth, but found he couldn't. A thought popped in his mind and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He mentally nodded his head knowing what he had to do, knowing what he had to do for his son.

"I am a friend of the family." The treacherous words stung him. He could taste the poison of each word denying his identity to his son, but it had to be done. It was for Bill's own good, at least that was what Lucas kept telling himself.

Officer Lahote sighed. "Then I'm sorry. If you are not the boy's father, you cannot take him with you. We will have to take him to the police station."

Lucas nodded not trusting himself to speak. "Can I," His voice broke but he cleared his throat. "Can't I talk to him before you take him?" Lucas ignored Bill shaking his head 'no'.

Officer Lahote turned to his fellow police officers for help. They shrugged their shoulder showing they didn't care. Lohote rolled his eyes then turned to Lucas. "You have five minutes, buddy."

Lucas nodded his head. He watched the officer walk away giving him and his son time alone. Lucas unclasped Bill's hands from around his neck and placed his feet on the ground. When he finally saw Bill's face, it pissed him off. Streaks of tears ran down the little boys face. Lucas bit the inside of cheek. His mind was screaming at him for being so stupid, but he knew what he was doing

"Are you alright?" Bill looked up at him telling the man silently that it was a stupid question. Lucas chuckled as he kneeled to his son's height. "I'm glad you're –"

"Why are you leaving me?" Bill interrupted him. "Don't you want me?"

He didn't know why he was being emotional. Granted, his mother had just tried to kill him, but he didn't know Lucas, so why did he care if some stranger didn't take him wherever he lived. He could be a killer of some sort, but Bill for the life of him knew that he wasn't. He knew that this man was someone of importance, someone he knew that he should know.

"Of course I want you."

"So why are you letting them take me?"

Lucas sucked in the cold winter air through his teeth. He didn't want to upset his son, but he had a plan and if his plan worked, he and Bill would meet again. "You have to go with them."

"Why?"

"Because it's better for you to go with them. I can't take care of you."

"But you said –"

"I am aware of what I said, but that was my own wishful thinking." Lucas used his thumb to wipe his son's tears. "It's better this way, kiddo."

Bill sniffed. "But I want to go with you."

Lucas nodded. "I know." He whispered. "I want to take you with me, but I can't." He licked his dried lips before continuing to talk. "There are some things that need to be done, before I can take you."

"Like what?"

"Lessons, Bill." The softness was gone and the seriousness dripped from his mouth. "There are lessons you need to learn to survive." Lucas placed his hands on either side of Bill's shoulders. "This world you live in is not what it seems. Things you think you know are lies, Bill. It's up to you to weed out the lies and discover the truth."

Bill listened to what was Lucas was saying but didn't understand. He shook his head. The boy was tired and his head was beginning to pound. "I don't understand. Please, tell me what you want me to learn. Whatever it is, you can teach me, can't you?"

Brown eyes stared at Lucas with so much hurt. He had to crush it. "No." Lucas said sternly. He stood to full height and looked down at the boy. He tucked away his emotions and banished the thought of Bill being his son. He needed his son to grow into a man. He needed his son to understand and the only way he could do that was not to coddle him.

Bill looked up at Lucas and a bit frightened by his new friend's abrupt tone. His face wore a deep frown and his lips thinned. Bill knew now he wasn't going with Lucas. There was nothing he could change his mind.

"I'm not trying to be mean to you, Bill." Lucas said in a stoic voice. "But you have to learn the ways of this world on your own." Bill sunk his head down but Lucas lifted his chin to face him. "Here's a free lesson. Lesson number one; never bow your head to no one. Not even me." Bill nodded his head and Lucas let his chin go. "This world is not a nice place, Bill. It is your job to get through it." Bill nodded understanding. "Find out your opponents' weakness. Once you find out what it is, use it against them. Use it as much as you can until it hurts them, do you understand me?" Bill nodded again. "Hurt them, Bill. Hurt them badly." Lucas hissed.

Bill saw the fire in Lucas' eyes through his speech. By what Lucas was explaining to him and by the look of his whole demeanor, Bill took what Lucas said to heart. What Lucas was feeding him was knowledge that he would need to use in the near future. Taking his new friend's words, Bill let the information marinate to his marrow. His tears stopped. His back stood straight as any soldier would listen to their commander. Bill lifted his chin with confidence that he didn't know he had.

"I will." Bill said in a steady voice.

Before Lucas' eyes, he was seeing his little boy becoming a man that would make him proud. His eyes looked over to Officer Lahote, who was coming towards them. He looked back at Bill. "Do you feel that pain you're feeling right now?" Bill nodded his head again. "Good. Use it. The pain will empower you to ensure you will no longer beg at the feet of the invisible." Lucas words struck a chord in Bill.

Officer Lahote stood behind Bill. "Are we done here?"

Both father and son looked at the officer with slit eyes, making them look exactly alike. It was true what they said, like father like son. "We're done." Lucas' hate filled eyes cast down to his son. A slight smile played on lips. "Take care of yourself."

Bill didn't say anything to Lucas. He didn't know what to say, so instead he hugged him. Lucas pulled him closer to him and rubbed his fingers through his hair. He was going to miss his son, but he knew they would see each other again. Lucas gave him one last pat on the back. "Alright," He pulled away. "Go with the officer."

Bill nodded and turned to the officer. Lahote held his hand out but Bill ignored it and walked past him. Lucas covered his smile with his hand. The officer turned to Lucas, wiping the smirk off the proud father's face. Lucas eyed the holster on the officer's hip. "Nice gun". He said to him.

The officer nodded to him and left Lucas standing there. The father watched his son get into the back of the police car. Only then did he let his hard shell break. A lone tear fell from his eyes. Not wanting to see the car drive away, Lucas turned his back on the police car driving away.

He could feel his son's eyes on his back, but he refused to turn back around no matter how much he wanted to. Lucas stuffed his hands into his pockets feeling his hands getting numb from the cold. When he stuck his right hand in his pocket, he felt the safari knife still inked with Elizabeth's blood. Bill slipped it in Lucas' pocket when they were hugging. Lucas parted his lips into a smile. His son was clever.

Simon stood from leaning on his 1955 black Mustang as he watched Lucas come towards him. He watched him and Bill talk but he didn't know what was happening. When he saw the officer take Bill away, he was confused. Simon felt impatient, he decided to meet his companion halfway. "Where is your boy?"

"He's not coming." Lucas moved passed Simon to open the passenger door.

"Are we going to get him?" Simon asked.

"No." Lucas got in the car.

Simon shook his head and got in the driver side. He turned on his ignition but didn't pull off. "What are you going to do, Luke? Are you going to leave your boy with anyone?"

Lucas didn't look at his partner. He kept his eyes on the dashboard. "I'll have my son again," Lucas saw the police car that his son was in drive in front of them. "Just not right now."

Simon didn't ask anymore questions and drove off. After a mile or two, they found themselves next to the police car Bill was seated didn't make any eye contact with the boy and Bill didn't make any eye contact with Lucas, but they could feel each other. In the back seat of the Mustang, Simon's son was looking out at the boy in the backseat of the cop car. Seeing the peculiar pale skin, he remembered where he had seen Bill. It was earlier that day while at the park. He was swinging on the swings when he noticed Bill. He wanted to walk up to him and ask for his name, but the pudgy boy was too afraid to do so.

"What's that boy's name?" The boy asked without taking his eyes off Bill.

Lucas ignored the boy's question and continued looking out the windshield. Simon sighed seeing Lucas wasn't going to answer. Simon looked through the rearview mirror to see his son's face planted again the window. The father held in his laughter. "He's a new friend for you, buddy."

The son continued look at the porcelain boy with interest. The light turned green telling the cars to go. They began to move forward. The curious boy kept watching Bill until the police car turned the corner entering another street. Simon kept his eyes on the road but from time to time, he would see his son still looking out the window. He could tell his boy was curious about Lucas' son.

The father snickered to himself. "A new friend indeed." He muttered to himself.

**_Our prince survived the night and sat uncomfortably on the wooden bench of the Police Station. His watchful eyes were null and void not paying attention to his surroundings. The background noise was nothing but a buzzing noise to his ears. The Porcelain Prince mind replayed what his father told him before he left with the officer. _**

**_'The pain will empower you to ensure you will no longer beg at the feet of the invisible'_**

**_He felt the pain and he embraced it._**


End file.
